


Kiss Me Keith

by DancingDowager



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Canon Universe, Feelings, Getting Together, Laith, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Pidge to the rescue, Space Gas Made Him Do It, Supportive Coran (Voltron), Then Some Deliberate Kissing, klance, matchmaker coran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingDowager/pseuds/DancingDowager
Summary: Lance could, maybe, forgive Keith for kissing him under the influence of weird space gas. What he can’t forgive is Keith forgetting about it afterwards.





	Kiss Me Keith

"Your _face_ looks like a Hoodlanickitt!" Lance declared.

"You don’t even know what that is!"

"I know it can't be uglier than your _mullet_!"

One of Keith’s hands jumped protectively to his locks, curled against the popped collar of his jacket. “What is your problem with my hair?”

“Your hair _is_ a problem, Keith. For everyone with eyes.”

“ _I_ have -“

“-Uh, guys?” Hunk cut in, nervously. “Could you do this somewhere else? Or not at all, maybe? Please don’t fight in the middle of Allura’s Pappy’s collection of precious alien stuff, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Half of this looks like junk!” Lance protested, gesturing around him.

King Alfor’s specimen closet was actually a set of circular glass rooms that seemed part museum, part mad biologist’s lair. A darkened tank in one corner held a selection of bioluminescent shells, pulsing with yellow lights. In another, a set of pedestals displayed rocks that crackled with energy, pink sparks hopping from one to the next like fleas. Tools were scattered on worktops amidst vial after vial of soil and leaf samples; notes and files in Alfor’s own handwriting spilled from over-stuffed bookshelves onto the floors and desktops. A notebook was wedged into the branches of a pot-plant with ghostly leaves, so light and thin they were transparent and rustled if you even breathed near it. Wherever the King had found room he’d stacked more specimens: jars and test-tubes of liquids that bubbled or floated upside down.

Pidge’s head popped up from behind a rattling crate, glaring so fiercely her glasses were trying to escape down her nose.

“I’m studying this _junk_ ,” she snapped, adjusting them, “and if you break something Coran will chuck us out _and_ make us clean pods for a week, and _I_ will push you out the airlock. Hunk! Don’t touch that!”

Hunk froze, one finger hovering over what appeared to be a solid block of pale metal about the size and shape of a Rubik’s cube. “Why? What is it?”

“I don’t know, so _don’t touch it_.”

Hunk withdrew his hand and put both behind his back. The Green Paladin turned a seething gaze on each of them before disappearing behind the crate again. Lance could have sworn he heard it meow before he nudged his shoulder against Keith’s.

“You heard her, _Keith_.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Keith retorted, fists balling immediately. “You started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!” Lance insisted. It might even have been true: he honestly couldn’t remember.

Keith glowered, darkening his eyes to purple-grey. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a scream that made them both jump. Lance twisted and saw Hunk flinching away from the cube in his hands. It was whistling like an angry kettle, steam billowing out of the top.

“HUNK!” Pidge yelled, vaulting over the crate. Hunk thrust the object out at her, babbling.

“I only picked it up!”

Both Lance and Keith slammed their hands over their ears while Pidge examined the cube. After a moment she tapped the edges, and the steam and screaming stopped. Lance saw Hunk’s shoulders visibly slump with relief and peeled his hands away while his friend gingerly set the box down. Pidge gave Hunk a look that threatened swift, violent retribution and huffed a breath out of her nose.

“You guys should go and race the language program monsters or something.”

“But Coran brought us here to stop us from…” Hunk began, getting quieter and quieter and wincing harder as Pidge continued to eyeball him. He looked to Keith and Lance for help.

“We should stay in case something else happens,” Keith suggested.

Pidge folded her arms. Lance knew that look. It was the look his sisters wore when they were done being reasonable; when someone had eaten the last of the ice cream and they didn’t care who, as long as someone suffered for it. Of course, Keith would be clueless.

“I’d be better off with the mice than you three,” Pidge retorted. “Get out and go racing, or bother Allura, or train or whatever you want to do. Just go away so I can work.”

Keith opened his mouth to argue, so Lance elbowed him in the side. Hard, because this was Keith, but before Keith could say something and get eviscerated, because Lance was a nice guy like that. And he was pretty sure the green bayard was in one of Pidge’s cargo pockets, and that thing _stung_.

Keith scowled ungratefully and Lance tugged on his sleeve.

“Come on, Mullet. Bet I can beat you to the rec room –“

“Don’t pull me!” Keith protested, wrenching himself free with too much force. Lance saw his eyes go suddenly round as his arm was flung backwards.

Everything went wrong at once.

Keith’s elbow slammed into a bookcase; his knuckles rapped against a shelf. It rocked. A sheath of papers cascaded down with a slithering sound. Something blurred rushed to the floor and the air split with the bright, crisp cry of shattering glass. For one fleeting second, Keith and Lance’s eyes were locked, their own horror mirrored on the other’s face. Then Keith’s disappeared behind a purple cloud.

Lance heard him gasp and saw it in gleaming swirls. Keith sat down heavily, thudding into the deck, faint lilac slicked over his cheeks and wisps of vapour curling round his ears. The rest of the cloud continued to rise, pooling on the ceiling and lingering like a forgotten Christmas decoration.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.”

Hunk scurried round the maze of worktables, nimbly dodging other shelves. He came to kneel beside Keith and Lance, who crouched in front of the Red Paladin. Keith groaned and put his head in his hands; his knuckles already blooming pink. Lance swallowed.

“Okay, I swear that wasn’t on purpose. Keith? You good?”

“Don’t touch him!” Pidge snapped.

Lance and Hunk leaned back, sharply. Keith was sitting in a glittering halo of broken glass and spilled paper, and didn’t look up. He didn’t even twitch, as if he hadn’t heard.

“What is it?” Lance asked uneasily, side-eying Pidge as she approached.

“He got covered in that stuff. We shouldn’t touch him until we know what it is.”

“I’ll call for Coran!” Hunk volunteered, scrambling up and making for the intercom by the door.

Keith still said nothing. Lance’s fingers twitched, itching to give him a quick poke in the shoulder, anything to make him _move_.

“Keith?” he tried instead, leaning as close as he could without overbalancing. “Keith, you okay?”

Keith stirred, hands rubbing his face a little, spreading damp streaks. He looked up, gaze settling on Lance with the glassy, unfocussed look worn by the heavily concussed or extremely drunk. His face was slack until a loose smile lifted his cheeks.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith said, and Lance nearly recoiled then and there. Keith breathed his name like it held magic in the syllable, and not at all like the name of someone involved in getting him gassed.

Lance caught Pidge’s eye as Keith continued to smile.

“Do you think he hit his head?”

“I hope that’s all it is,” Pidge muttered, squinting suspiciously up at the cloud lurking on the ceiling.

Lance coughed, turning back to his vapid teammate. “Hey… hey, man. Does your head hurt?”

Keith tilted his head on one side, nose wrinkling as though he really had to think about it.

“No,” he reported a few seconds later, smile creeping back. “I feel great.”

Suddenly, he lurched forwards. Lance had to pull back and drop a knee to avoid a collision.

“Are you worried about me?” Keith asked, breathless. Lance spluttered.

“Just as a friend! Or, uh, a fellow paladin. It’s not every day someone gets covered in a weird shiny fart thing. Right Pidge?”

Pidge ignored him, narrowed eyes intent on Keith’s face. Hunk crept up behind her, adding his anxious brown stare to the scrutiny.

“You are worried,” Keith said, apparently pleased, smile spreading even wider as Lance flushed. “And now you’re embarrassed about it.”

“I am not!” Lance said too quickly as Pidge and Hunk’s stare swept over him, too.

Keith sort of giggled, _Keith giggled_ , and Lance’s mouth fell open in shock.

“You are,” Keith said, scooting forwards a little with a scraping sound. “It’s cute.”

Lance barely had time to gasp before he felt leather against his cheek: Keith’s hand had lifted to cup his jaw. His eyes went wide when he saw Keith’s close; an inarticulate yelp was strangled and lost as Keith’s lips pressed against his. The kiss lasted only seconds before Keith drew back and giggled again at Lance’s face.

“See,” he said, breathless. “Cute.”

Keith’s eyes slid shut and he passed out, slumping against the bookshelf.

 

 

“He kissed me!”

“We know.”

“Dude, Keith kissed me!”

“Lance, we saw. We were there.”

“ _Keith_! Kissing!”

“Please shut up,” Pidge sighed, removing her glasses to clean them on her top. The glaring lights of the medical bay flashed on the lenses.

“But _Pidge_ , he –“

“Lance, shut up or I’ll tell Allura about the pickup lines I caught you practicing in the mirror.”

Lance turned from the merciless green gremlin to Hunk, who opened his arms for a solemn hug.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got ya.”

Lance sniffed, and Hunk settled an arm around him so he could get comfortable against the larger boy’s side.  When Lance was safely installed, both of them watched Coran as the major-domo poked at the cryopod controls, aqua lines strobing down his face.

“So, uh… you’re sure he’s okay?” Hunk asked, eyeing Keith, who was still and washed out behind the tinted glass.

“Yeah, he was acting _really_ strange,” Pidge said, smirking.

Coran’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Nothing to worry about. Keith’s metabolism should clear out the last of the vapour in a few more doboshes, now the pod is speeding it along.”

“Should Lance go in too?” Hunk asked. “Just in case… uh…”

“In case Keith gave him kissy cooties.”

Coran shook his head, ignoring Pidge. “I expect Lance would have shown symptoms if he’d inhaled anything.”

“You mean they’d make out?”

Hunk flapped his hand and made shushing noises, and Coran patted Lance on the shoulder, smiling as he bestowed a comforting squeeze.

Wait, what?

“Coran!”

Lance, Hunk and even Pidge jumped guiltily at the sound of Shiro’s voice, all of them straightening minutely as he strode across the medical bay.

“Is Keith okay?”

“It seems Keith inhaled some _bubderizle_ juice,” Coran reported, cheerfully oblivious of that making sense to exactly nobody. “It, uh, seems to have hit him quite hard, but he’ll be back with us in a moment.”

Shiro frowned. “Hit him hard? What does that mean?”

Coran’s moustache twitched as though there was something living in it, or else it had movement independent of the rest of his face.

“Well-“

“-he kissed Lance and fainted,” Pidge reported with relish.

Lance shrunk into his own shoulders. Hunk winced in sympathetic embarrassment. Shiro blinked.

“Oh.”

Lance risked a look, and watched several emotions fight for dominance over Shiro’s face. It looked like he was struggling with an extra-sticky toffee. Eventually, Shiro caught his eye, his cheekbones dusted pink.

“Right, okay. And Keith’s otherwise unharmed?”

Pidge sniggered.

“Un _affected_. I meant unaffected. Sorry Lance.”

Coran nodded. “Absolutely, we’re just chasing the last of the juice out of his system.”

Shiro nodded as he caught up, folding his arms. “How did he get exposed to this bub-drizzle juice in the first place?”

“I wouldn’t mind getting to the bottom of that myself,” Coran said, clasping his hands behind his back and looking over the paladins like an aloof older uncle. Shiro joined him, expression firmly in the ‘stern dad’ category.

Lance cracked first.

“It was an accident,” he tried feebly, and Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. Pidge sighed.

“We were looking around King Alfor’s lab and Keith _accidentally_ fell into a bookshelf and knocked over a specimen jar,” she recited. “It smashed and Keith got covered in vapour.”

“Purple vapour.”

“Kind of shiny.”

“Not like Galra purple,” Hunk mused, “more sort of violet purple?”

“The juice of the _bubderizle_ flower,” Coran finished for them, nodding sagely. His smile was wistful. “Alfor and I collected it on one of Jejobia’s moons.”

“And this was a complete accident?” Shiro pressed. “Keith just tripped?”

“The macking on Lance was deliberate.”

Pidge carefully dropped her grin when Shiro frowned at her.

“And the fall?”

No-one answered. Shiro let them count out five long seconds before he sighed.

“I thought so. After this, everyone has extra training.”

They all groaned.

“I had nothing to do with it!”

Shiro shrugged. “We all need to work on our shield drills anyway.”

Pidge pouted but was distracted when the cryopod hissed, white wisps escaping into the cavernous room. Keith stumbled out, supported by Coran’s hands under his elbows, silvery bodysuit clinging like it had been painted on. Keith’s brow creased as he got his bearings, cold stinging his cheeks pink.

“Coran?” he shook himself a little, finding his own balance. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Pidge chirped, curiosity peaked.

“You passed out man,” Hunk said, “You scared us.”

“I – what?” Keith mumbled, frowning.

“Hang on,” Pidge said, glancing at Lance, who hadn’t found the right (or any) words yet. “What _do_ you remember?”

Keith squinted.

“I remember being in Alfor’s collection…” he said eventually, strained. “And… and there were weird plants and rocks and stuff, and then…” he trailed off and shrugged. “That’s it. Why?” his eyes flicked over each of them in turn, resting on Shiro. “Why was I in the pod?”

“Oh no,” Hunk murmured, his concern matched only by Pidge’s obvious glee.

“You totally sno-“

Lance slammed a hand over the little genius’ mouth before she could continue, her scream of rage muted in his palm. He made himself take at least one deep breath before he spoke, shrugging out of Hunk’s embrace.

“Are you saying,” Lance growled, trapping Pidge against his front as she squirmed, “that you don’t remember anything, _anything_ _at all_ about what happened in there?”

Keith blinked. “I said I didn’t.”

“Absolutely nothing?” Lance pressed. Pidge licked his hand but he didn’t budge. He used to babysit his sister’s kids: he knew this game. “Nothing important _at all_?”

“What is it, Lance?” Keith shot back, bristling. “I don’t remember, just tell me already!”

Hunk sucked in a breath, simultaneously patting Lance’s back and working at his grip on Pidge. “Okay, now don’t get mad-”

“YOU!” Lance yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Pidge gasped and jumped to safety. “You, you… mullet-haired, glove-wearing, show-off pilot ass-“

“Language!” Shiro cut him off.

“Quiznakking right!” Lance spun on his heel and made for the exit. “I’m done! So done! Just keep that jerk away from me!”

“Lance!” Hunk called, helpless.

Lance just had time to hear Pidge blurt ‘you kissed that idiot’ before the door slid shut behind him.

He knew exactly where he was going. If you excluded the miles of dark, silent corridors (which still gave Lance the heebie-jeebies), his bedroom and the common areas where the others might stumble across him, there was only one place to go when he felt like this.

Lance detoured via Hunk’s secret stash first, swiping a bag of cookies. Neither Hunk nor Blue would mind as long as he swept up the crumbs.

His Lion opened as soon as he stomped into her bay. Lance was secure in the pilot seat, legs drawn up in front of him and the door sealed, before he let himself cry. The tears stung on the way out and made ugly marks on his carefully maintained complexion. Damp patches formed on his jeans, choked gasps and blubbering spilled into empty minutes.  

Warm affection lapped at his mind: Blue reaching out to him. It was a bit like sinking into a bath or sun-soaked sea, weightless and enveloping, sapping tension out of his limbs. With her purring in his head, it was harder to pretend he was crying only frustrated tears, like those he’d shed at the garrison.

He wasn’t heartbroken.

He was too angry to be heartbroken.

But Holy Crow, it hurt anyway.

It was a long time before he could steal control of his breathing back from his chest. When he had, and angrily wiped his cheeks, Lance seized a cookie and snapped it in half, biting down viciously as if it had insulted his Mama. Or stolen his nephew’s teddy. Or maybe kissed him and then _forgotten_ about it like a complete…

Lance swallowed and devoured the rest of the cookie, feeding his anger with sugar. Besides, they weren’t bad when you got over the fact they were green and tasted like watermelon.

Keith had forgotten. Again. Just Lance, no big deal, not like the feelings of a cargo pilot matter. Not like he spent his whole damn time at the garrison trying to stand on the same ground, and hauled you out of the fire more than once as paladins. Literally, even.  

Keith had kissed him. Kissed him without a by-your-leave for making his head spin, and it was because of a flower cloud. _A flower cloud_!

Space, sometimes, was a jerk. A massive, unfair jerk, just like Keith, who was the most terrible, selfish, infuriatingly pretty jerk in the whole of space and any alternate dimension you cared to mention.

And seriously, did he ever use lip-balm? He could stand to learn a thing or two about skincare, if he would just listen for once.

Lance bit down into cookie victim number two, chewing to make this one last longer. Blue still hovered in his mind, confused but open, and Lance chose to focus on her rather than the remembered sensations of chapped skin and warmed leather. She filled him with feelings like sun-heated sand and rockpools, splashing in the surf and bonfires reflected in the water, summer evenings and fireworks. It felt like home.

He sank down in his seat, long legs stretching out under the dash, and turned his head up.

"Always have you, right girl?"

Blue purred affirmation and Lance reached for another cookie, intending to finish the bag and apologise to Hunk later. Maybe he could take a nap here, or just chat to Blue for a while, and Shiro would let him off for skipping extra training. But if he did, Shiro would come and try to _talk_ _about it_ , and Lance would have to explain why being forgotten by Keith for the second time hurt even more than the first.

Lance frowned until the tears trying to crowd into his eyes retreated. Blue purred steadily as he forced himself back together and then nudged him to be alert.

Peering out the windscreen, Lance saw Keith and Hunk walking across the bay towards them, both dressed in their armour. Or rather Keith was striding closer and Hunk was trailing along after him, agitation obvious even from here. Lance pressed a few buttons so he could hear what was going on outside, but didn't ask Blue to open up. Not until he was sure his expression was under control and they wouldn’t know he'd cried.

" - just think that this maybe isn’t the best idea. Lance is probably still really mad so we could just come back later and..."

Hunk gave up when Keith stopped by Blue's paw.

"Lance? Lance you're in there, right?"

Lance flicked a cookie crumb at Keith's face on the screen.

"We have training."

"We have training," Lance mimicked, safe and unheard inside his lion. He reached for another cookie, watching Keith fidget uncomfortably as Blue remained motionless and silent. Unable to see him, Keith’s growing glare was misdirected over Lance’s head.

“Shiro says we all have to go.” Keith insisted.

Hunk butt in. “But Shiro also said-“

He stopped when Keith threw him a look, but gave the Red Paladin a thumbs-up. Hunk smiled hopefully up at Blue before dawdling his way out of the bay, frequently looking back.

Keith waited for Hunk to clear the room before he turned back to the Lion.

Lance zoomed in the view, crumbs brushing over Blue’s dash. He saw Keith breath deeply before he finally looked up, shades of violet in his irises.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Lance sat back, surprised. Keith waited, apparently hoping for a response. He didn’t get one.

“I mean…” he took a breath, glancing at the floor before up at Blue again. “I was obviously out of it. And it’s not like I even remember.”

Lance’s grip tightened on the bag of cookies, crushing the last of them into pieces.

“Do you wanna… just forget it happened?” Keith asked, slowly.

No.

No, quiznak, that was not what Lance wanted.

“Lance?”

Keith was a jerk. Space was a jerk. Flower clouds were double jerks.

“Lance, are you even listening?”

The last of the cookies became powder.

Keith’s jaw tightened. “Okay, fine. Be that way. But don’t blame me when Shiro goes off on you for not coming to training.”

Keith turned and began stomping away, giving Lance precious seconds to scrub at his face and pull himself up. Keith stopped when he heard Blue’s gantry extend, allowing Lance to saunter towards him with his chin high.

“I _am_ coming to training. And I’m going to wipe the floor with you, _Mullet_.”

 

 

“Here come the lovebirds!” Pidge sang as they entered the training deck. Lance cursed Keith for not going ahead while he changed; presumably because Keith thought he’d try and skip. They both glared. Hunk wilted but Pidge remained defiant. Shiro looked slightly embarrassed and entirely exasperated, nodding them in.

“Right. Now we’re all here, we’re going to focus on shield exercises and team building.”

“That’s right, paladins!” Allura’s voice crackled slightly over the speaker, bright with enthusiasm. “As an added incentive, the drones will deliver a little sting, rather than knock you out of the deck. So it’s especially important that you _work together as a team_ ,” she finished, suggestively.

Oh, great. Shiro told the Princess.

Shiro didn’t meet Lance’s baleful eye and predictably stationed Keith at Lance’s side, himself on the other. Lance just gritted his teeth, knowing it was pointless to argue.

“If you need to stop, drop your bayard,” Allura instructed, and a long beep signalled the start of the exercise.

Drones swarmed them, flashing lights dizzying as they shot. They moved like a flock of sparrows: sometimes together, mesmerising, sometimes darting out to catch them from a new angle. Hunk hissed once as he moved too slowly to shield his foot; a moment later Shiro flung out an arm to protect Pidge. The longer they stood, the faster the drones became. The rain of fire beat on their shields like crashing cymbals.

They’d been going for a while before Lance slipped up. He had moved to cover more of Shiro’s left side, their leader bent on protecting Pidge over himself, and darted just a second too slowly to shield Keith’s elbow. Keith yelped, arm jumping. Lance dived to block more incoming shots, eyes travelling to Keith automatically. Blue met grey-purple.

In just a few ticks, Keith’s expression folded shut, settling into something flat and hard. Just like the old days. The moment broke, just as the vial had earlier, shattering into fresh bursts of laser fire. Keith turned away from him, hunkering further down behind his own shield.

Oh, so Keith thought he’d done that on purpose, did he?

He really thought Lance was that petty?

Okay. If that was how it was, Lance wouldn’t disappoint. He’d _be_ that petty. He’d show Keith what petty was. He’d be the _best_ at petty.

Lance slid back into the moment, turning shots away with an ease and grace that contradicted the bubbling anger in his belly. He timed it perfectly, picking up a shot Shiro could have caught for himself and letting one hit Keith’s shin.

Keith yipped and stumbled, catching his feet before he fell. He favoured the hit leg as he hopped back into position, settling down into a fighting stance, and carefully avoided even acknowledging Lance was there.

So Lance let through a couple more.

He was careful. He blocked far more than he allowed, and did his best to not let anything hit the same spot twice. He also made sure he was busy blocking something else whenever he dropped the guard on Keith, so he couldn’t be called out later. If he was too obvious, Shiro would stop them before Keith cracked.

He _wanted_ Keith to crack. He wanted him to shout and yell and _face_ him so Lance could call him out for not trusting him and shout back and stop feeling so _angry_.

But Keith was stubborn, and Lance hated to lose. The occasional little hiss when Keith got hit wasn’t satisfying at all. It actually made him feel worse, his chest tight and hot and blistering. The noises began to add up; Shiro started sending them concerned looks. The feeling twisted and pulled and made Lance lash out too sharply, tugging at his concentration until he made another genuine mistake and a burst hit Keith squarely above the knee. The dark-haired paladin bit down on his own cry, overbalanced and dropped his bayard.

“Keith!”

The drones flew upwards, disappearing into openings in the ceiling. Keith scrabbled to retrieve his bayard but Shiro was already there, helping him up with his human hand.

“Are you okay? You’ve been getting hit.” Shiro said it with carefully neutral tones, but Lance knew Pidge and Hunk were looking at him.

Keith was breathing hard, but that could have been the exertion. Lance wondered if Shiro also noticed the clench in his jaw.

“I’m fine. I can keep going.”

Shiro’s eyes slid over Lance, who painted his expression blank. Guilt prickled around his hairline, itchy as lice, but the pressure in his torso was still there, squeezing his lungs.  

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t think the flower juice could still be affecting you?”

“I’m fine, Shiro.” Keith said, brusque. He caught the older man’s gaze, pulling it from Lance. “Really,” he added, tone settling into something else. “I’m fine.”

Shiro kept frowning, but nodded and took a deep breath.

“Alright Keith, if you’re sure. But perhaps we should ease off training with the drones for now.”

“No kidding,” muttered Pidge, who had sat down on the floor to rub at a stung ankle. “Don’t we get hurt enough already?”

“Yeah,” Hunk added, mournfully. “Extra training is fair enough, but I prefer it when the only things trying to hurt me are the enemy."

“It is hard when we can't rely on our own team,” Shiro agreed, too pointedly to be subtle. Lance doubted he was trying. “But we’ve improved a lot: you should be proud of how far we’ve come together."

“If I promise to be proud later, can I go back to work in the collection now?” Pidge asked, turning her widest amber eyes on Shiro.

“I was hoping to make cake today…” Hunk added, similarly pleading.

Shiro hesitated, smile fond. “What kind of cake?”

“Remember that stuff we picked up on the last planet? Smelled like lemons? It actually tastes sort of like pineapple, so I thought I’d try upside-down cake.”

“Is it still upside-down cake in space? When there isn’t an up and down?”

Hunk stared at Shiro, who shrugged.

“Just a thought.”

“If what we call down is towards the nearest centre of gravity…” Pidge murmured.

“…and the cake was close enough to experience the gravitational field…” Hunk continued.

“What exactly is this cake, and why do you make it upside-down?" Allura asked, stepping onto the training deck with Coran and several hydration pouches.

Keith slipped past them and towards the exit silently. Lance watched him go from the corner of his eye, sipping on the pouch Coran gave him. He carried on eying the door for several seconds after he was sure Keith had made an escape, the red grip on his chest still tight, a shake still haunting his fingers.

 

 

Sneaking into Keith’s room and setting the internal alarm to go off at the castleship equivalents of two, four and six a.m. was easy. It was harder keeping an impassive face when Keith appeared late for breakfast the next morning, grumpy and glaring and even more surly than usual. The Red Paladin just stopped short of snapping at Shiro and Allura, eyeballing his morning goo as though it had done him personal injury. (It hadn’t since the last time Coran cooked). The mice crept up and played around Keith’s bowl, scampering and looking extra cute to cheer him up, and eventually coaxed a half smile from him. Lance got nothing, not even an accusation. 

That, for some reason, was even more annoying.

So he did more.

He switched the sugar for salt in Keith’s not-quite-but-close-enough space-coffee. He stole Keith’s jacket and hid it on top of the kitchen cabinets, out of Keith’s sight and reach. He looked everywhere for something to use as a whoopee-cushion, but apparently the Alteans had evolved past fart jokes.

They didn’t talk. In fact, Keith barely spoke to anyone, sloping off to the training room alone whenever they had free time and completing all their regular joint exercises with a single-minded concentration that excluded anything social. Shiro was annoyed with both of them and Allura was running out of patience with those times they didn’t perform as well as normal.

Still, Keith didn’t tell anyone what Lance was doing.

Lance got creative.

He stuffed paper into the vents in Keith’s room so they made an irritating high-pitched whistling noise, just loud enough to constantly catch the edge of hearing. He messed with the temperature controls in the training room so it cycled unpredictably from hot to cold while Keith worked out. He dusted the inside of Keith’s helmet with shimmery, sparkly powder retrieved from an Altean makeup box, so Keith spent the next few days picking gold and silver glitter off his face and hair. Lance made elaborate plans involving getting nunvil into the hydration pouches, but couldn’t figure out how to pull it off.

“Oh come on, Pidge.”

“No.”

“It’d be hilarious, and you know it.”

Pidge shut her laptop with a sharp snap. “Lance, what makes you think I’d waste my time and precious resources making itching powder? Ask Hunk.”

“Hunk would feel bad about it,” Lance said without missing a beat, spreading his hands. He knew he could persuade Hunk, but he also knew Hunk would beat himself up over it for a week.

Pidge’s eyes narrowed murderously.

“Why don’t _you_ feel bad about it?”

Lance scoffed. “Come on Pidge, it’s a prank! It’s harmless. And funny.”

Pidge sighed, gathering her laptop from her lap and putting it safely on the table, out of arm’s reach. That was how Lance knew she was Serious, capital 's'.

“Sorry Lance, but it isn’t.”

“What?”

Amber eyes locked with his own, slightly magnified behind the thick lenses. “This thing with Keith. It’s not funny. I get you’re mad about the kiss and I’m sorry I made fun of you guys, but-” she took a deep breath and let the rest spill out in a rush: “-but Keith has been really moody these last few days, he isn’t doing anything back, and you’re making it really awkward for the rest of us. It’s like you’re picking on him.”

Lance’s mouth opened.

“You _are_ picking on him,” Pidge said, quietly.

His mouth shut. Pidge studied him, growing more and more on edge.

“Is this really all about getting kissed once?” she blurted, awkwardly. “Because… okay, you’ve got every right to be mad about that, but you know he wasn’t _trying_ to take advantage of you, right?”

Because it was an accident. A flower cloud. Not something Keith would ever actually want to do, obviously.

Obviously.

“Ah, uh, are you crying? Did I make you cry? I wasn’t having a go at you! I’m sorry, I’m bad at this, I just wanted everyone to be friends again!” Pidge rattled off, panicking. She reached out and dragged Lance into an awkward sideways hug, surprising strength in her skinny arms. Lance leaned into it and got a faceful of wiry, cow-licked hair and clung on to Pidge’s jumper. She smelt like sweat and fabric conditioner.

“I’ve been a jerk, haven’t I?”

“Sort of? A little bit?”

Lance sniffed mightily and squeezed.

“Don’t rub your snot in my hair! And um, say sorry, I guess?”

Lance shook his head. “He’ll never like me.”

“It’s not that bad. Keith will forgive you, he’s not mean.”

“Yeah that’s... that's not what I meant.”

“I know you have that rivalry thing, but it’s not like it’s serious. It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want to be rivals with him! Well I do, but not… uargh,” Lance trailed off. “I just want him to remember,” he added, under his breath.

Pidge peeled away, her hair standing up in even more directions than before. “Wait, is that what this is about? The forgetting? Not the kiss?”

Lance scrambled, sitting up. “Well, of course I’m angry about the - about Keith kissing me, why wouldn’t I be mad about that? Obviously I’m mad about it. But if he _must_ lay one on me like that, like if there’s a crazy space flower involved or something, the least he could do is remember it, right?”

Pidge shook her head. “Lance, it really isn’t Keith’s fault he forgot. I asked Coran about it: _bubderizle_ juice makes you produce endorphins that feel great but mess with your memory. He couldn’t remember it if he tried.”

Lance snorted. “As if he would want to.”

“ _You_ want him to?” Pidge pressed. Her eyes looked like they were filling up the whole glasses’ lens; she looked like an untidy owl. She sat up with a shriek. “You _like_ him!”

“ _Pidge_!”

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not mad about what happened, you’re mad because it didn’t mean anything.”

Ouch.

“I don’t _like_ like him, okay? I don’t. Honestly. I just can’t forgive him for forgetting the kiss of a lifetime. That was a one-off Lancey-Lance experience.”

Pidge pushed her glasses back onto her nose. “What experience? You were frozen like a Hoodlanickitt in a snowstorm back there.”

“I was surprised!” Lance hissed, so red he was sure he’d burst a blood vessel, waves of heat rolling off his face. “And he was out of it! If I knew what was going on and if he wasn’t covered in random purple kissy juice, I’d have-“

“-stop!” Pidge interrupted, slamming hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know. You’re like my brothers, it’s weird!”

“It’s not weird, it’s… anyway, I don’t want to kiss Keith! I don’t like Keith!”

“I’m out,” Pidge announced, seizing her laptop from the table. “This is really not my area. If this is a feelings problem, talk to Hunk. Or Coran. Come back to me when everyone’s friends and I can make fun of you again.”

“Pidge!”

“No!” Pidge clutched her laptop to her chest and began scampering away. “Just make up, okay? You can make out or whatever afterwards, but don’t pick on Keith anymore.” Pidge slipped out the door, her head reappearing a moment later.

“And no p.d.a.!”

Then she was gone.

Lance slumped back on the sofa and groaned.

The Castle of Lions merely continued its quiet hum, mocking him in his agony.

What now?

Now he had to strangle Pidge. Or bribe or blackmail her into silence.

And he had to apologise to Keith.

Lance rolled over and buried his face in the sofa, willing himself to suffocate. He could say: ‘Hi Keith, sorry I acted like a jerk to you for the past few weeks over something totally not your fault’, perhaps? Or: ‘Hey Keith, yeah, I was bullying you because of my massive unrequited crush, my bad’. Neither sounded great to Lance. Maybe he could go with: ‘Hi, I was playing all those tricks on you so you’d notice me because I kind of have a thing for you and my heart broke a little when you kissed me because of space-weirdness but can’t remember it’.

Nope. No good options.

Lance went back to groaning. When the rec room door opened with a _swish_ Coran walked in on Lance screaming into the seat cushions.

“Ah, Lance my boy. Pidge said I might find you here.”

He was definitely going to strangle Pidge.

“What else did she say?” he asked, popping up and eyeing the major-domo with suspicion. Coran merely looked fond and twinkly, making a show of dusting off the fabric. It didn’t need it.

“Nothing I didn’t already have certain suspicions about.”

Lance froze. “You knew? Am I – am I that obvious?”

Did Keith know? Holy Crow, if Keith _knew_ …

Soft chuckling followed Coran as he finally settled onto the sofa, tenting his fingers.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed affairs of the heart,” he said gently. He was smiling, moustache tips fluttering slightly. “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to know you’re courting officially.”

Lance felt his stomach flip like the weightless drop you chase at the top of a rollercoaster, or the moments of antigravity in his Lion.

“ _Courting?!_ ”

“Yes,” Coran nodded, happily. “I admit it took me a while to realise that’s what was going on - Earth courting rituals are so different from Altean ones! - but I’d be happy to advise you as best as I can. I was considered something of a catch myself, back in the day.”

Lance swallowed. It didn’t seem to work, so he tried again. After two or three attempts, he managed: “Coran, I’m not courting Keith!”

The moustache twitched, disturbed.

“You’re not?”

“No! I am – I _was_ – being really mean to him!”

Coran tapped his head and dropped a gloved fist into his palm. “Well now, that _is_ what it looked like, but I assumed… what was that business with his jacket about, then?”

Lance blushed, so thoroughly embarrassed by now he felt like he was made of slime, slowly oozing towards the floor.

“You knew about that?”

“There was the jacket, the alarms, the thermostat and my moustache powder…” Coran counted them off on his fingers. He cocked his head at Lance as he continued to try and fade into the background. “That wasn’t part of some ritual? A test of some sort?”

“I was just messing with him.”

“Really?” Coran looked a little deflated. “I was so sure.” Suddenly he jumped. “Quiznak, does that mean Keith is unaware of your intentions?”

Lance nodded miserably.

“Well then,” Coran began, briskly. “I’d say your first step is to have a chat with our Red Paladin.”

“No no no no no! I mean, I’ll apologise for being mean. Somehow. But Keith must never find out I like him.”

Coran’s eyes went wide. “How extraordinary. How do you start a courtship on Earth, then, if you never tell each other how you feel?”

“No, I’m not - Coran, I’m not trying to court Keith.”

“Oh? Why not? Is there some rule against it? An age limit, perhaps?”

Coran looked genuinely interested, as if he was learning about foreign cultures in a class rather than talking to Lance about his stupid crush. His now very exposed stupid crush.

Lance shook his head, feeling his last grip on the conversation rattling round inside it. “It’s not against the rules  - well, actually it is in some places - but that’s not the point! I’m not _not_ -trying to court Keith because of rules, Coran, I’m not trying because _he doesn’t like me back_.” The words burned, hot as the itch at the corner of his eyes. “Or even like me at all, anymore,” he added, lamely.

Coran snorted.

Lance stared, and Coran bolted upright, rubbing his nose. “Excuse me, Lance. That was not appropriate or dignified. I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention that little lapse to anyone else. I was simply… surprised.”

Lance continued to stare, his pulse jumping into an over-eager polka that failed to heed his attempts to calm down. Coran’s face softened into another warm smile, lips curling under the luxurious fall of his moustache.

“You see, part of the reason I assumed all that mischief before was courtship was because I thought that was the natural next step for you two.”

Oh. Oh?

“I was under the impression that you were both quite aware of each other’s feelings, and the incident with the _bubderizle_ juice simply… kicked things off, as it were.”

Oh.

“I had no idea that you were in any doubt about whether Keith reciprocated your affections.”

 _Oh_?

“In fact, it was some of Keith’s behaviour that first alerted me that romance could be in the air.”

Lance spoke around the ball of hope filling his mouth like a gobstopper. “You mean you think Keith likes me? _Likes me_ , likes me?”

Coran twiddled his moustache between immaculately white fingertips. “Now I can’t say I’m never wrong, but I’d put money on it.”

Lance jumped up and nearly fell over, his knees apparently left out of the arrangement and opting in last minute.

“CORAN! Coran, what if he does or he did and now he doesn’t because I’ve messed it up by being a jerk?!”

“Well I’d say that’s a reason to get a quiznakking move on.”

 

 

Why was the Castle of Lions so big?

Lance found Keith (eventually) scrubbing the cryopods in sulky silence, thankfully alone.

He leaned on the doorframe, catching his breath and feigning casual while his mouth dried out like the Sahara in summer.

“So. Keith.”

Good start, Lance thought, as Keith jumped like a cat and span on the spot. The weight of Keith’s gaze hit him hard, heat rising to his cheekbones.

The sponge in Keith’s hand dripped on the floor. “What is it now?”

“Nothin’. Just thought we could talk.”

He tried finger guns. Keith looked like he’d been shot.

“What for?” he hedged, a few more drops landing on the smooth rubber floor.

Lance hesitated, the lines of tension cording Keith’s neck doing nothing to calm his heart’s _ratta-tat-tat_ against his ribs.

“You don’t need to be so edgy.”

“I’m not the one who’s being-” Keith cut himself off, the sponge squeezed dry. He turned back to the pod he’d been scrubbing. “I’m busy.”

The spot under Keith’s hand already looked very, very clean. Lance shifted on his feet, his limbs far too long to have a comfortable place to be right now.

“Keith. I’m actually here ‘cause… I wanna say sorry.”

..and Coran thinks you like me and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Keith went motionless, leather gloves taut across his knuckles.

“Yeah?”

“I was being an ass.”

“Yeah, you were.”

Okay. Not going well.

“I… I _was_ being an ass, and I’m sorry, and I’ll stop.”

Lance might have imagined Keith twitch. The hand on the cryopod withdrew to hang loosely at his side.

“Did Shiro make you come and say this? Or Allura?”

“No, this is me. I mean, Coran and Pidge did say I should apologise, but I’d already worked that out on my own.”

Keith didn’t answer, shoulders hunched up inside his cropped jacket. He looked narrow. Was he always that narrow? Like Lance’s arms could go round him twice? Lance took a step closer, knew he didn’t imagine it when Keith started in his skin.

“Seriously, Keith. I know I was being awful and you’re probably super mad, but I am sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Then Keith was facing him, arms raised like he expected a fight, like he wanted to push Lance away, pale skin gleaming under a wet glare.

“I mean I get it if you don’t like it, right!” Keith spat. “If it’s not your _thing_ , fine. But do you have to act like… like I’m disgusting or something? I don’t even remember! I didn’t even get that out of it!”

“Woah, woah, disgusting? What did I say about disgusting?”

Keith turned away from him again. The Red Paladin stomped over to the next cryopod and began cleaning it furiously.

Lance was still trying to catch up, brain turning over in double time as he processed what Keith had said.

“Wait. Wait, you thought…? Holy Crow Keith! I’m not like that!”

He had to make Keith _look_ at him.

“Keith, I have _not_ got a problem with kissing guys. Or guys kissing, or guys liking guys. Not at all,” Lance stressed, desperately seeking eye contact while Keith squirmed in front of him.

“Oh really,” Keith retorted, flatly.

“ _Really_ ,” Lance insisted. Anger made his voice a little bit lower, a little more dangerous. It made Keith stop, finally looking at him properly. “I’m not that stupid. Or evil,” Lance went on, quieter.

Keith swallowed, apparently seeing the sincerity Lance was trying to show on his face. He breathed and slumped. “Fine. You’re not a total jerk. You just can’t stand being kissed by me.”

“That’s not it either!”

 _Why_ did Keith have to make this so difficult? Why was _Keith_ so difficult? And _why_ did he have to go and fall for him anyway?

“I wasn’t angry because you kissed me, okay? I was angry because you didn’t remember!”

If Keith was anyone else, he might have done a double-take. “What?”

“You forgot about me _again_ , Keith!” Lance half-shouted. “And it was an actual _kiss_ this time. Kisses are supposed to be a big deal. Or at least,” he stumbled, anger running out, pulling the words out from under him and making his tongue trip, “at least, they - they are to me, okay? So it hurt that you didn’t remember, alright?”

“It’s not like I _wanted_ to forget it!” Keith’s chest snapped up and down.

“You’re the one who said we should pretend it didn’t happen!”

“I thought that’s what _you_ wanted!”

“Well it wasn’t!” Lance retorted.

They panted at each other, both out of breath and out of sync, staring as they tried to understand. Or at least, Lance thought Keith was trying to understand. He looked almost horrified, hands clenched tight at his sides.

“It wasn’t?”

Lance’s tongue felt thick. “Anyway… anyway. Pidge says the flower made you not remember, so… so I’m sorry I got mad about it. Right.”

This… this is not how he wanted this conversation to go.

Keith’s nails bit into Lance’s wrist, warm leather rubbed against his skin.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Wha… wha?” Lance was losing motor function in his face; Keith was _intense_ so close, and all the things Lance _felt_ around Keith were more intense as well. His knees were pretty wobbly. He swore he could smell rubber and leather and soap and sweat, and it wasn’t even slightly off-putting.

“Why do you want me to remember?” Keith repeated.

“I… I’ve been over this, Keith. I just think kissing is… important. Yeah.”

“Is _us_ kissing important?”

He squeaked. “ _We_ didn’t kiss _._ You kissed _me_!”

"So is it important?"

"Muhrgh... yes! Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

“Icoulddoitagain.”

“Wha-“

“I could do it again,” Keith repeated, slower. His grip on Lance’s wrist was almost painfully tight, his cheeks the colour of his jacket, the flush carrying all the way down his neck.

Quiznak! Quiznak, he had to think, speak, say something that wasn’t stupid!

“You… could?”

“If you want,” Keith said. His tongue peeked out over his bottom lip and Lance just died or ascended or _something_ that made him feel like the floor had disappeared and he was floating in vanilla clouds.

Keith was still looking at him, looking at his mouth, and Lance struggled to make sure it wasn’t hanging open. Keith’s voice was as tight as his grip.

“I could kiss you and we’d both remember and then everyone’s happy, right?”

“Yeah,” Lance said faintly, far away. “Yeah, I’d be happy.”

Then there were warm hands on his face and Keith kissed him.

He still needed lip-balm. His lips were slightly damp from his tongue and jammed tight to Lance’s own until he started to move them, then everything went softer, warmer, and far more difficult to stay standing for.

Lance managed it, but only because he locked his hands into Keith’s t-shirt.

“Happy?” Keith asked, slightly shaky breath fanning on Lance’s chin.

“Yea-yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” More breathing, too heavy, too close to each other. “Do it again?”

“Yeah,” Lance said barely, closing in on the kiss almost as fast as Keith did. He dragged Keith nearer by his clothes, made the kiss deeper when their bodies were pressed together as close as they could go.

Kissing Keith properly took quite a while.

“So, uh, there was another thing,” Lance said when they stopped for breath, dizzy.

Keith’s eyes were hooded and hot; his hands now fisted in Lance’s collar in a manner that should probably seem threatening but was instead ridiculously sexy.

“Does it matter right now?”

Honestly, Lance was pretty hazy on that point himself, but he was sure it seemed very important earlier.

“The thing is: I actually really like you? And Pidge knows and Hunk _probably_ knows and Coran actually thought I was courting you, so I feel like you should know too? In case it affects the whole… kissing thing? Which is great, by the way. Big fan of the kissing thing.”

The hands in Lance’s shirt went slack, which was slightly disappointing. His heart jumped in his chest, keen to pursue that train of thought right to the end of the track.

“Coran thought you were what?”

“Yeah, he totally thought me being a jerk was me trying to win you over in some kind of Earth mating – _courting_! - courting ritual.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Lance sort of tittered, still light-headed. He didn’t remember kissing anyone else being this breathless.

“I know.”

“Why would you being a jerk ever make me actually like you?”

Lance swayed. “Er, well… do you? Like me?”

“Idiot,” Keith muttered and pulled him back into a kiss. Or maybe he was just trying to steady him and Lance took the opportunity. He felt like it was worth it; they were good at kissing. It didn’t take long before Keith did something with his tongue that made Lance make a weird noise in the back of his throat: a sound he was sure he’d never made before and would probably deny ever making. He pulled back, gasping.

“So so so that’s a ‘yes’, then?”

Keith was smirking, but still rolled his eyes. “Why do you think I kissed you in the first place?”

“Because a cloud made you?”

Keith shook his head, dark fringe waving. “Lance. The _bubderizle_ juice makes people feel ecstatic, it doesn’t compel them to snog the first person who gets close.”

“Oh. So you…?”

“I was happy and I kissed you because I felt like it. I guess. I really can’t remember.”

Lance swallowed and hauled him close again.

"You’d better remember _this_ -"

“-mmf!”

 

 

“I called it.”

“No you didn’t!” Lance protested, waving with one arm. The other was resting around Keith’s shoulders, and he didn’t feel like moving it. “You noped out and ran away!”

“Because I knew you’d be like this,” Pidge said, gesturing at Lance’s posture, cuddled as close to Keith as the others and the sofa would allow. “Stop them, Shiro.”

Shiro smiled at the Green Paladin. “As long as it doesn’t affect Voltron, I don’t see a problem with it.”

“It’s wonderful!” Hunk agreed with damp eyes and a sniff. Allura and Coran patted a shoulder each.

“I’ve always been a bit of a match-maker,” Coran observed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. One of the mice was sitting on his head.

“You won’t be saying that when they’re making out in the corridors,” Pidge hinted darkly.

Allura looked at Pidge, curious. “What is ‘making out’?”

Shiro started coughing.

“Ah, of course!” Coran said, clapping his hands. “You must tell us how Earth courtship rituals actually go, now that this is all cleared up.”

Lance squeezed Keith’s shoulder and winked.

“We can demonstrate making out if you like, but I can't promise you won't get jealous.”

“No way!” Keith snapped, shoving him in the side. Lance fell back with a theatrical moan and a hand over his heart that earned him no sympathy from his new boyfriend whatsoever.

“Are you going to be like this all the time now?” Keith asked, reluctantly offering a hand to pull him up.

Lance fluttered his eyelashes deliberately. “I don’t know; will you always be this handsome?”

Pidge mimed retching. Keith dropped his boyfriend and hid behind his hands, groaning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou very much for reading.


End file.
